Intermission arrived at last and with it came the end of Dare’s patience. Charlotte was frankly surprised it had lasted as long as it had.

“Since you insist on refusing to answer a simple question when I ask it, I will assume you desire my absence. As I am behind in the adjustments to the steam valve on my engine, I will take this opportunity to satisfy your wish to be rid of me.”

Indecision warred within her. If he left her by herself at the opera, not only would everyone see that they’d had an argument, but she would also be forced to face that which she’d been successfully keeping at bay all evening—the fact that no one, not one single person, had called upon them in their box. They were being cut, and if Dare didn’t care to recognize that fact, she would be forced by his absence to acknowledge it. Should she give in and tell him what he wanted to know, soothing his ruffled feathers and keeping him by her side so she could pretend they were on their honeymoon and did not wish to be disturbed by anyone, or should she selflessly put his well-being ahead of hers? She was tempted by the former since he did not seem to appreciate the sacrifices she was making on his behalf. It certainly was hard being noble when Dare didn’t seem to realize he was being protected.

It was the last thought that decided her. He needed her, if for no other reason than to protect his reputation in Society. Since Fate had been so good as to give her what she’d wanted—to be vitally important to her husband—she would fulfill her destiny and serve him as best she could. On his behalf she’d tackle the ton head on and not concede failure until there was no breath left in her body.

She lifted her chin and met her husband’s furious gaze with tranquillity and serenity. “Very well. If you would prefer to work on your engine for the rest of the evening, then go home. Caro and Lord Beverly are here—I shall sit with them for the remainder of the opera.”

Dare looked surprised for a moment that she had called his bluff, then bowed stiffly and held out his arm. He was very angry at her, that she knew, so she didn’t try to jolly him out of it with dimples and sultry looks from under her lashes. Instead she allowed him to deliver her to Caro’s box, giving the Beverlys only the briefest of pleasantries before curtly nodding to her and leaving. Dare might be angry now, she told herself as she settled herself in a gold and ebony chair next to Caro’s, but she was confident that one day he would appreciate just how much she had sacrificed on his behalf.

“Lord Car…your husband seems very angry this evening,” Caro whispered over her fan as Algernon greeted a new arrival to their box. “Is it because you both are being cut?”